Somewhere Between New York and Pennsylvania
by MCR Lurver
Summary: Anne Wrightly and her family have made the move from New York to Pennsylvania. As she meets certain members of the Congress, her heart is torn in a fight between the life she knows in New York, and the new love she has found in Pennsylvania.
1. Anne Wrightly, Herself

Author's Notes: Yay, a new story

**Author's Notes: Yay, a new story! I've been working on his one for about a year, as you may have seen in my profile. I'm usually into slash when it comes to 1776, but I thought it might be a nice change to write something differently for once. When it comes to historical accuracy, I've pretty much thrown it out the window, because it makes for a better story. So, I hope you enjoy. And I apologize in advance, because the updates will be very slow. But we are covering the American Revolution right now in my American History class, so that might spark my muse. Here you go!**

Chapter 1:

I sighed, and placed my cup of tea gently down on the coffee table. It was a gloomy day, overcast, and drizzling; an oddity at this time of year. But it was something that I would not shun. I quite like rainy days.

"Interesting weather today," my sister commented, glancing around the room with a nervous grin.

"Yes, it is, Bridget," I said, jumping at the chance to make conversation that had nothing to do with property policies. I flashed a quick smile at Mr. Oliver Cummings, the landlord of this house, then took another sip of tea. But he only wore the same expression, his face scrunched up, like he was deep in thought. I did not believe that it had changed in the past five minutes; the same amount of time ago that we had stopped talking about our financial issues, what with Father being away now.

"It 'tis a pleasant break from the usual," Oliver said after a long pause. He turned to look at me, his gaze scrutinizing.

"I have been told that it would be warm here," I said, "but I was not expecting it to be this warm."

"Yes," he said. "This year has been warmer than usual. It has been feeling more like we are in the Deep South."

I stole a quick glance at Bridget, then gave a small laugh. "Would you care for some more tea, Mr. Cummings?" my other sister, Mary, asked.

"That would be lovely," he said, handing her his cup. Mary bustled off into the kitchen to make some more tea, because the four of had drank the entire kettle's worth in the hour that Oliver had been here.

There was another long and very awkward silence in the room once again. "Your mother does not say much, does she?" Oliver asked.

I turned towards my mother, who had been sitting silently in a chair for the most of the morning. "No, she does not, I must admit," I said. "But you must excuse her. She is greatly grieved by the fact that my father has been called away to train some of the New York militia, what with the war brewing and everything else."

"Has he now?" Oliver said, leaning forward in his chair.

"Yes," I said with a small smile. "He has recently been promoted to Major. We are very proud.

"I see," he said, stroking his chin. "And I assume that this is your reason for the move to Philadelphia?"

"Yes, it is," Bridget chimed in.

"Now, tell me again, where is it that you come from?" Oliver said, leaning back in his chair, and taking the steaming cup of tea from Mary, who had just come back into the room.

"New York," I said. "In the north."

"And it is cold up there?"

"Yes, very," Mary said.

"Then this will be a pleasant change," he said.

My sisters and I exchanged a glance. "Does this mean that you would be so kind as to give us the boarding room, sir?" I asked. Silently, I began to pray.

"Yes, it does, madam," he said. His expression had softened. "And I shall cut the rent pay in half for the first year."

"Oh, you are very kind, sir," I said, a smile spreading across my face.

"Yes, thank you, sir," Mary said.

"Now, if you would excuse me, ladies," Oliver said, rising from his chair, "but I'm afraid that it is getting late, and I must be off. I have someone I need to meet at the market. It has been a pleasure."

The three of us stood up, and led him to the front door. "I shall see you at the end of this month. Good day, Ms. Wrightly, Ms. Mary, Ms. Bridget," he said, tipping his hat at us.

"And the same to you, sir," I said, giving a small curtsey.

As soon as the door closed, Bridget let out a small squeal. "Oh, Mother!" she said, hurrying into the parlor. "Did you hear? Mr. Cummings has given us the house!" Mother only sat there, a blank expression on her face.

"Bridget, leave her be," I said quietly, placing my hands on her shoulders. "Come now, will you please go check on the little ones upstairs?" She nodded her head, and started off towards the staircase.

"Oh, Anne, this is wonderful," Mary said. "We have the house."

I gave her a weak smile, and pulled my shawl a little closer to me. "Yes, this is good news," I agreed. "I only wish that we weren't in this situation in the first place.

Just then our conversation was interrupted by cries from upstairs. Mary sighed. "That must be Ben," he said. "I'll go help Bridget." She walked off.

The rain was starting to slow now. I walked over to the window. Our new house was located in a fairly decent part of Philadelphia. It was a little shabby, sure, but comfortable. All seven of us could fit, and there was still room to spare.

"Anne?"

I turned to see my youngest sister, Julia, standing near the stairs. "Oh, darling, what's the matter?" I said, moving away from the window.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, rubbing her eyes with her hand. "The rain is too loud."

"Come now, Julia," I said, scooping her up in my arms. "Let's get you back to bed. The rain is starting to lighten up now."

"Okay, Anne," she said. I carried her back up the stairs, and placed her in the bed that she was sharing with my two brothers, Thomas and Benjamin. I kissed her lightly on the cheek, then closed the door. I quietly headed towards the room that was mine.

Now much was in there; only a bed, a desk, and a dresser. I closed the door softly behind me, hoping that my siblings would not disturb me. I was fortunate to find that someone had left a quill, ink well, and parchment on the desk. I could find nothing else to do, so I began to write my father.

_Dearest Father,_

_Life in Philadelphia is nothing compared to life back in New York. I miss you already, and we have been gone barely a week. Mother hardly speaks now. I am worried for her. And I do fear for you, being in the army, when war is on our doorstep. I know that it is a noble thing for you to do, training the men to fight, but it does not stop me from worrying. I do hope that Uncle Joseph and Aunt Martha are well back in New York. How do they find the house? I wish at some point, we are all able to return there. I know that it is dangerous at the present time for us to be there, because if the British should arrest you for treason, they would surely do the same to us, I know. I've heard you explain this many times over to Mother. Our house is nothing special, but it is comfortable. The little ones seem to like it. But they have no conception of what is really going on. Although it is already late August, it is still very warm here. I wonder if these winters will be anything like those in New York. Then again, I wonder how many winters I shall see here. I do hope that you are well. I miss you very much._

_Love,_

_Your eldest daughter, Anne_

I set down my quill, and read the letter through several times. It did not feel like it was me writing; there was just something strange about it. Then I remembered something that Aunt Martha had told me before we left: _Anne, you are no longer a girl; you are a woman. Try not to let your strong personality stand in the way of finding a good husband._ That was it. The letter sounded like a woman was writing it; I was no longer little Annie.

"No longer little Annie," I said aloud to myself. "No longer little Annie, who the boys would chase after; little Annie who would always act older than her age; little Annie who was amazed by the snowfall; no longer…" I stopped, my voice cracking, and my eyes filling with tears.

The one time that I wished I could not act my age was the one time when I desperately needed to. My mother was as good as a sack of potatoes at the moment, seeing as she did nothing but sit around the house all day. My father was training the militia, and could not be here to protect us.

I wiped my eye on my apron, and headed downstairs. "Where have you been?" Bridget demanded as I entered the parlor.

I sighed. "Upstairs, collecting my thoughts," I said.

"I can find nothing for dinner," she complained. "There is nothing left over from the trip."

"Oh, is that what you've been moaning abut?" Mary snorted. "You have a brain and legs. You could have gone out and bought something if you are so hungry."

"Anne, did toy hear her?" Bridget said. "Can you believe her? She's so mean to me, Anne."

"Found something else to complain about, have you?" Mary said.

"Girls, please!" I said, throwing my arms up in the air. "Do not fight. Especially not when we have just arrived here. Bridget, if you are as hungry as you say, I will go out and see if I can find a small chicken at the market." With that, I turned and marched out of the front door.

"Honestly," I muttered to myself as I stormed down the street, "Mary is sixteen, and Bridget twelve. Can they ever do anything but fight? No, do not believe that they are capable of anything else. Such poor mothers they shall make. That is, if they should ever find a man who would take them." I let out a small growl, completely oblivious to the people around me. "They set such poor examples for Julia. I fear for her upbringing once I am gone. If I am to ever find a husband… But, no, I have a 'strong personality', and will never find a good man…"

"Excuse me, madam, but is it common for New York women to march down the street cursing their family?" I turned to see Oliver next to me, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, Mr. Cummings," I said, looking at the ground. I could feel my face growing hot from embarrassment. "I was not aware that I was speaking aloud."

"That is quite alright," he said, waving a hand as if waving away my comment. "I can understand your frustration. The move must be hard on you."

"Yes, it is," I said with a small smile.

"Oh, there you are, Oliver," said a man, pushing his way towards us.

"Ms. Anne Wrightly, meet Mr. James Wilson, member of the Congress, and my brother-in-law," Oliver said.

"An honor, madam," James said, tipping his hat at me, and taking my hand.

"Mr. Wilson," I said nodding my head. It was only then did I realize that I must look awful. My hair was falling out of its sloppy bun; my dress was wrinkled; and my powder must have worn off hours ago."

"Mr. Wilson belongs to the Pennsylvania delegation," Oliver said.

I smiled. "My brother has a dream of one day becoming a Congressman himself."

"Ah, now there's a good lad," James said.

"How would your brother like to meet Mr. Wilson?" Oliver asked.

"Oh, he would like that very much," I said.

"I would be happy to talk to your brother," James said. "I shall come when it is convenient to you." He then flipped open a beautiful gold pocket watch and looked at it. "I beg your pardon, madam, but we must be going. I was an honor to meet you."

They both tipped their hats, and were on their way. I smiled, and turned towards home, completely forgetting about the chicken.


	2. The Meeting of Mr Dickinson

Author's Notes: Yay, another update

**Author's Notes: Yay, another update! This is a shorter chapter; I'm trying to vary my chapter lengths instead of writing long ones like I usually do. Oh, and yes, Oliver Cummings is my own character. And if you haven't figured out that I don't own "1776", yeah… I'm going to be putting the links to what my characters look like on my profile soon, if I can find good enough pictures online. **

Chapter 2:

The weeks went by without much happening. We had finally settled into our new house, and were starting to get used to life in Philadelphia. This particular day, Mary and I were at the market; a place where I usually spent time alone, but that was not the case today.

"Mary, look at these tomatoes. Do you think that they are ripe enough to buy?"

"No," Mary said. "I think the ones nearer you would be better."

I reached down to pick up some more, and found that my hand was covering the tomatoes, but a hand was covering mine. I looked up to see who the hand belonged to, and was surprised to see that it was James Wilson. "Mr. Wilson," I said with a smile.

"Ms. Wrightly," he said, quickly removing his hand from mine, "'tis nice to see you again."

"And the same to you, sir," I said.

"Ah, James, I am afraid that you are not fast enough once again." I turned my head to look at the newcomer, and my breath caught in my throat.

James gave a small chuckle. "As usual," he grumbled. "Ms. Anne Wrightly, may I introduce to you Mr. John Dickinson, my fellow congressman."

"And honor, sir," I managed to choke out after a second's pause. I was not sure why, but I could not keep my eyes off of John. His brown hair was pulled back, as was James', and he wore an elegant black hat atop his head. I think that it was his bright blue eyes that were his most captivating feature, and the fact that he was handsome did not hurt, either.

John and James continued to talk about tomatoes, and how hard decent one were becoming to get, while I continued to gaze at John. Then I felt an elbow jam into my ribs. Mary was looking at me, her head cocked at the other two. "Oh, I am sorry," I said. "Mr. Wilson, Mr. Dickinson, this is my younger sister, Mary." The men tipped their hats at her, and she curtsied.

After a few more minutes of simple conversation between the men and myself, mostly about my recent move, James pointed out that it looked like rain, and that we would be best to head for home.

"It was an honor to meet you, Mr. Dickinson," I said.

"And the same to you," he said. I could feel my face flush red when he took my hand and kissed it lightly.

When they had started to walk away, Mary wandered back over, having been bored with the conversation earlier, and had excused herself with the false intention of searching for some fresh bread to buy. "Are you done yet?" she asked. "Anne? Anne, are you even listening to me?"

But I wasn't listening at all. I continued to stare after John. I felt my face flush red once again when he looked back at me, a smile on his face. "You think he's handsome," Mary said, a smirk breaking on her face.

"No," I said. My answer was certainly not helped by the fact that my face was still bright red.

"You're not a good liar, Anne," Mary said with a giggle.

"Alright!" I said. "I do find him handsome." Mary continued to smirk at me. "Mary, you know very well that I am not thinking of marriage at the moment. I am more concerned with settling in here in Philadelphia. And besides, I would never choose a husband based on appearance."

Mary sighed. "You are right. But let us hurry home. I am not sure how much longer Bridget can stand with the little ones."

"Or how much longer the little ones can stand with Bridget," I added with a small giggle. I placed my arm around her shoulders, and we headed for home.


	3. The Invitation

**Author's Notes: Yeah, this is a bit of a random update. I would just like to say that this chapter took me like 3 months to write because I kept putting it down, and I still don't really have anything to show for it. Oh, well. Anyway, thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing.**

**Chapter 3:**

Our new house, located in the quieter section of the city, was sandwiched between a boarding house and a small residential house with a yellow roof and green shutters, which belonged to a woman named Sally Hanson. From the several times that Sally had come over for tea and gossip, I learned that her husband, Joshua, had enlisted in the Continental Army, along with her two younger brothers.

"I tell you, it is something else on my nerves, having all three of them in the army," Sally said one afternoon over tea. "Your father's in, right?"

"Yes, he is," I said. "He's an officer, actually. And he writes that he is due up for promotion soon."

"Good, good," Sally said, blowing on her tea to cool it.

"That's why we're here, actually," Mary said.

"Is it, now?" Sally asked. "I was not aware that the war was displacing people already."

"Oh, no, it's not that," I said. "Our father thought that it would be safer for us to be here in the city as apposed to our house in New York. He feared that when the fighting headed that way, the British might attack out house."

"Hmm…" Sally said. "Understandable fears. So, did you simply abandon the house, or did you sell it?" she asked.

"Oh, no," Mary said. "Our uncle and his family have moved into it."

"That's good," Sally said. "Then you'll still have it if this war should ever end."

"Or if it should ever begin," I said.

We lapsed into silence for a few minutes. "How do you like the city?" Sally finally asked.

"Philadelphia is charming," I said. "Although it certainly is different from New York."

"I love the marketplace," Bridget said. "There are so many things to buy, and people to see."

"Now, have you had the chance to acquaint yourselves with anyone?" Sally asked. "Or does that honor fall solely to me?"

I laughed. "I must admit that it does not," I said. "Our acquaintances may be little, but I find that they are very well, and among them are two congressmen."

"Congressmen, now?" Sally said. "From which colony?"

"Pennsylvania," Mary said.

"Oh, so none of those hot-headed New Englanders?" Sally asked. "I've heard rumors about Sam Adams, and that lawyer cousin of his."

"So have we," I said. "But I have resolved not to pass any judgment on them until I have made their acquaintance."

"And when do you plan on doing this?" Sally asked with a small laugh.

"Tomorrow evening," I said coolly. "This came this morning." I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out the dinner invitation from Mr. Cummings, and handed it to Sally.

She scanned it for a few moments. "Well, I dare say," Sally said, "that you have connected yourselves very well. Mr. Cummings has connections all over the city. There are sure to be many people there worth connecting yourselves with. Not to mention," she glanced at me, smirking, "a considerable amount of eligible bachelors."

I felt myself blush. "I assure you, Sally, that that was not my intention when I accepted the invitation."

Sally snorted. "Anne, please, you are twenty years old and not yet married. Do you mean to tell me that you are not looking for a husband?"

"No, I am not," I said defensively. "I am trying to get my family settled here in Philadelphia."

"Hmm…" Sally said, giving me a look that clearly said that she did not believe me. "Well, I'll be off, then," she said. "I am expecting a full report the day after tomorrow."

I gave her a weak smile. Sally Hanson truly was something else.


End file.
